


Sing Me Like a Choir

by Good0mens



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alpha Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Alpha Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Crusades Era Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Explicit Sexual Content, Feral Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned Quynh | Noriko, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Porn With Plot, Post-Movie: The Old Guard (2020), Pre-Canon, Rutting, Top Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Good0mens/pseuds/Good0mens
Summary: "He shouldn’t want Yusuf’s cock in his mouth, shouldn’t want to take Yusuf’s knot, to bury his face into Yusuf’s neck and take him apart.But the sweet scent of omega never appealed to him. He only found himself rousing at night, thinking of brawling with another alpha, of their cocks rubbing up against each other, marking each other with their release. More recently, he dreams of Yusuf’s smile, his canines sinking into Nicolò’s neck, murmuring praise into his ear while he fucks him-"
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 115
Kudos: 708





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Joe and Nicky are both alphas in this, and this fic will mostly explore how they make this work and how this changes/effects canon. Please leave a comment if you like it and want to see more!

The innkeeper of the city that Nicolò and Yusuf are passing through is handing over the heavy key to their room when she widens her eyes in shock, nostrils flaring.

“Oh, I hadn’t realised you were both alphas- _sorry,_ I thought- both your scents are all over each other, I couldn’t really tell-”

She manages to stutter through an explanation that the room they have is the only one left, with one bed, _usually for mated couples_ she had said apologetically, blushing bright.

Yusuf, kind and easy as ever, simply shakes his head, shooting her his most charming smile.

“I’m sure my friend and I will manage just fine. We kindly thank you for your generous hospitality,” he says, patting Nicolo on the back, and the innkeeper practically _melts._

Nicolò, for his part, is having a small meltdown over the words _one bed,_ and Yusuf has to nudge him gently before he snaps out of it, nodding politely to the innkeeper and slinging his bedroll more firmly over his shoulder. He ignores the quizzical look Yusuf sends him and follows the other alpha upstairs to their room for the night.

They drop their belongings near the chest at the end of the bed, which Nicolò is doing his best to pretend he isn’t staring at – it’s definitely not big enough to accommodate two alphas comfortably – and take a moment to bask in the quiet.

It’s quite late in the evening, being that they travelled all day to arrive here for a place to sleep ( _a real bed, Nicolo, please_ ), so there isn’t anything for Nicolo to do at this point but accept his fate or sleep on the floor.

Nicolò is just about to offer to do just that, when Yusuf drops onto the bed and groans happily. He closes his eyes and stretches his arms up, resting his hands on his head. Nicolò watches helplessly as Yusuf’s tunic lifts as he raises his arms, each bit of skin revealed a miracle.

Yusuf opens his eyes and levels those beautiful eyes at Nicolò, face splitting into a grin that means trouble.

“Well? Come to bed, _little alpha_ ,” he laughs, patting the small space beside him.

When they first met, on that battlefield, Yusuf had called him _little alpha_ to rile him up, and because Nicolò was practically malnourished from the long journey to Jerusalem. It had worked, but by the time they finished coming to blows, and started their journey together, Nicolò found he liked the nickname a little too much. Yusuf still calls him _little alpha_ as a tease, and Nicolò, knowing Yusuf means nothing of substance by it, allows himself to be teased.

In truth, he doesn’t know what he _wouldn’t_ allow Yusuf to do to him.

It should scare him, the trust and willingness to do Yusuf’s bidding. It should make his inner alpha rear up at the prospect of all but baring his neck to another alpha, but it doesn’t. Not only because Yusuf is a kind soul who would never harm Nicolò - or anyone else, for that matter - but because he _likes_ it. And that scares him more than Yusuf ever could.

And because Nicolò cannot deny him anything, he doesn’t protest Yusuf’s suggestion. He does, however, make a show of rolling his eyes before he kicks off his boots and slides into the bed.

Yusuf shifts back a little to allow him more room, and Nicolò is surprised to realise that it’s not _that_ uncomfortable. Nicolo does have to immediately turn away from Yusuf, to avoid breathing him in right where his scent is strongest, just below his neck.

It’s already so much; the heat behind him, the heady smell of alpha pressed up against him. His heart is kicked up a notch when he feels Yusuf’s breath tickling his neck, and it stutters to a stop completely when he feels a warm hand resting on his hip.

“This okay?” Yusuf asks, but he sounds distant, like he’s already drifting off.

Nicolò barely manages a little nod before he feels Yusuf relax a little further against his body. Nicolo stays perfectly still, like prey waiting to be devoured, and tries to calm down.

He’s not sure how, but at some point he must fall asleep, though not for long. When he wakes, it’s barely dawn, but Nicolò barely notices because as soon as he opens his eyes, he’s met with two immediate problems.

First, is that he had obviously rolled over in his sleep; his head is currently buried into the pillow, right next to Yusuf’s chest, and all he can smell is Yusuf. Every time he tries to breathe, it invades his senses, and it makes him groan, pushing his hips up a little.

Which is when he encounters the second problem: he’s hard as a rock, and so is Yusuf.

His erection brushes against Yusuf’s when he moves his hips, and Nicolò has to stifle a groan. The air between them is hot and sticky with arousal, with the strong scent of _alpha,_ and Nicolo hasn’t been this turned on since he was a teenager.

He wasn’t _supposed_ to want this; to want the hard lines of Yusuf’s body, or the unmistakable scent of an alpha – musk and spice and _Yusuf._ Nicolò is an alpha, with too sharp teeth and a quiet, burning rage. Rage because he’s spent his life having to hide who he was, what he wanted. _Who_ he wanted.

He shouldn’t want Yusuf’s cock in his mouth, shouldn’t want to take Yusuf’s knot, to bury his face into Yusuf’s neck and take him apart.

But the sweet scent of omega never appealed to him. He only found himself rousing at night, thinking of brawling with another alpha, of their cocks rubbing up against each other, marking each other with their release. More recently, he dreams of Yusuf’s smile, his canines sinking into Nicolò’s neck, murmuring praise into his ear while he fucks him-

He went to the seminary, despite it not being the _done thing_ for an alpha, in the hopes he could avoid a marriage to an omega, and the obligation of children that he could not fulfil. The crusade was, more than anything else, a way out. Not one that he was particularly proud of, but a way out just the same.

Nicolò isn’t blind; he sees how the omegas in the passing villages look at Yusuf. They linger on his broad shoulders, and he’s had more than a few offers in their time in this particular place. Nicolò doesn’t blame them – Yusuf is beautiful, and his smile is warmer than the sun. Yusuf is strong, and brave, and gentle, and _kind._

Nicolò may be a little in love.

Yusuf doesn’t indulge these offers, mostly brushes them off with a polite smile and kind words. When Nicolo asked him about it, he merely shrugged and explained “we are bound together, Nicolò, in life and death. Think of the life we lead; it would be unfair on them if I entertained the idea that there could be a pairing between myself and an omega.”

Nicolò has had few propositions, too; not as many as Yusuf, but he’s even had a few beta men flirt with him before. The attention was flattering, but Nicolò refuses just the same, because his heart lies elsewhere, along with his body, his mind and his life.

The owner of such is currently stirring, and for a moment, Nicolo allows himself imagine Yusuf opening his eyes, smiling warmly and tugging Nicolò in closer. He hears Yusuf grumble a little and his hips move forward, brushing against Nicolò’s cock. Nicolò hisses, suddenly in danger of popping his knot in front of Yusuf. Before Yusuf can wake properly, Nicolò quickly rolls out of the bed and heads to the washroom to take care of himself.

He does _not_ lift his shirt and bury his nose where Yusuf had been pressed hard up against him, and he certainly doesn’t come with the scent of Yusuf filling his nostrils.

When he returns, he can’t quite meet Yusuf’s eyes.

* * *

A few months into their friendship, Nicolò goes into a rut.

They’d been living in a cottage on the outskirts of a small village, but more dreams of the women had prompted them to leave and start heading north. Wherever the women are is cold; Nicolo has woken up a few times huddling against Yusuf for warmth only to be swathed in overbearing heat as soon as he got his bearings.

There’s no one around and nowhere to stay for days, so Nicolò has to spend the first day of his rut irritable, snappy and aching while they find someplace to hunker down. Yusuf is empathetic, and he stays a respectable distance from Nicolò, lest they get into a fight with no one around to separate them. It should be inconsequential; it’s not like they can hurt each other permanently.

When he says as such to Yusuf, the man stops walking and turns to him, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

“You deserve kindness, Nicolò. Don’t let anyone tell you different,” Yusuf says softly, looking at Nicolo with such tenderness that Nicolo has to avert his gaze.

They do find a cave, sequestered away so Nicolò can have some privacy for the rest of his rut. It should only last two or so days, as an unmated alpha without an omega to share it with. Not that he wants one; even in his rut, he doesn’t feel those particular urges to impregnate, nor does he find himself longing for the pheromones an omega in heat.

Nicolò usually distracts himself from his irritation and his urges by reciting prayer. When he was young, he used to pray that he could be normal. He has long since forgone such a plead, for they were never answered.

Usually, his ruts are uncomfortable but manageable; he could go about his business and ignore his horniness, only really indisposed for a day while he got himself under control.

This particular time, the proximity of Yusuf has sent his rut into overdrive. His heart is thrumming, and his muscles feel stiff and sore. He shifts restlessly, constantly hard, and he has to rid himself of his shirt because his skin becomes more sensitive. He can’t seem to focus on anything but Yusuf: his hands tending to the fire, his rough beard and his _scent_ – god, his scent is intoxicating. He has to keep himself as far away from Yusuf as possible to avoid jumping the other alpha.

Yusuf notices, because of course he does, but he misinterprets Nicolò’s avoidance for possessiveness of his territory. And because he’s the kindest man Nicolò has ever known, he asks if Nicolò would like him to leave until his rut is over to make it easier for Nicolo to relax.

Nicolò is torn; on the one hand, having Yusuf leave would make it easier on Nicolò. On the other, Nicolo thinks he might _die_ if he doesn’t get Yusuf’s hands on him.

At Nicolò’s silence, Yusuf reaches out to prompt him. He brings his hand carefully over Nicolò’s shoulder, like Nicolò might snap at him. When he brushes Nicolò’s nape, strokes down to his arm, Nicolo whines, shivering. Unconsciously, he tilts his head to give Yusuf more access; it’s not quite submission, but it’s enough of a tease that Nicolò hears Yusuf inhale sharply.

“Oh,” Yusuf says, almost to himself, “so that’s how it is.”

Nicolò closes his eyes and shivers again, this time from something much less pleasant than Yusuf’s touch.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, my friend,” Yusuf says to him kindly.

“Alphas are supposed to want omegas,” Nicolò snaps, the tremor in his voice barely restrained.

“That’s a load of shit, Nico,” Yusuf mutters back.

 _Nico_. Yusuf had started calling him that a few weeks ago. He likes it; but not as much as _little alpha._ Nicolò wonders if Yusuf’s not calling him that right now because he thinks it’s offensive, because maybe he _is_ less of an alpha because of his desires. The thought makes him want to rip someone’s throat out.

When Yusuf goes to reach out again, Nicolò flinches away.

“I think it would be best if you left,” he whispers, eyes pinched shut. He is a tightly coiled spring at this point, because he fears if he lets go, he’ll fall to pieces.

He stays like that until he can’t smell Yusuf in the cave anymore, and when he opens his eyes, it’s dark outside. He can’t bring himself to worry about Yusuf just yet, instead looks around the dimly lit cave. Yusuf has left him with some nuts and berries to eat, which makes him feel equal parts grateful and guilty.

He scoops a handful into his palm and throws it in his mouth, chewing idly while he thinks about what he’s going to do. Yusuf _knows_. He knows that Nicolò wants him. Will Yusuf treat him differently now? Will he still want to travel together? What if he doesn’t return?

Nicolò doesn’t know what he’ll do if Yusuf leaves him alone. The thought terrifies him enough that he considers leaving the cave to go find Yusuf, but when he shifts around he spots the tunic Yusuf had been wearing on the ground. It’s been folded neatly, and atop Yusuf has lain a small piece of paper.

Nicolò reaches out with shaky hands and opens the folded parchment. Inside is a drawing of Nicolò’s smiling profile. Yusuf must have drawn this from memory, perhaps while he was sleeping. Nicolò reverently traces the lines of his face, perfectly captured by Yusuf’s charcoal.

He sets aside the paper carefully and goes to pick up the tunic. He’s not sure what Yusuf’s intentions were leaving the items here, but he cannot stop himself from burying his face in the clothing and breathing deeply. His cock hardens instantly, heat stirring in his belly at the scent of Yusuf flooding his brain.

The hand that’s not gripping the tunic is shoved into his pants, and he groans as he gets a hand wrapped around his cock. He strokes up and down, imagines it’s Yusuf’s hand on him, telling him he’s _beautiful,_ that he’s _so good._

He rubs the clothing over his neck, mingling their scents as best he can, and when he comes, he uses the tunic to catch it all up. And because he’s alone and delirious with want, he comes again smelling himself on Yusuf’s clothes.

By the time Yusuf has returned the next day, Nicolò has already vigorously scrubbed himself clean twice in order to rid himself of the scent of Yusuf all over him, and he’s washed the tunic. He tells himself he’s imagining the flash of disappointment in Yusuf’s eyes when he scents the air and finds nothing.

Nicolò keeps the drawing.

* * *

“Come. We should train,” Yusuf says, springing up from where they’ve been relaxing by the river.

Nicolò looks up from where he’s sitting, with his hands out behind him. It’s been slow going lately, with summer in its final, brutal stages. They only manage to walk for a few hours a day before finding refuge in some shade. Nicolò has learnt restraint like another language, with the way sweat clings to both of them, making their scents linger and sharpen.

Yusuf makes a little _come on_ gesture with his head, sticking his hand out for Nicolò to take. Nicolò considers it for a moment, deciding it’s not _too_ hot for a quick spar. He slides his palm into Yusuf’s and allows himself to be tugged to his feet.

He tries to hide his surprise when Yusuf picks up their blades and tosses Nicolò’s broadsword to him. He catches it easily, unsheathing the blade and feeling out the familiar weight. They haven’t fought with weapons since before they became friends.

He shoves the feeling of unworthiness aside; if Yusuf trusts him, then Nicolò trusts his judgment of him. It’s as simple as that.

“I suppose you want a rematch for the last time,” Nicolò smirks, bolder than he feels.

He’s referring to of course, the last time they’d come to blows; the last time Nicolò had killed him before Yusuf had risen and decided _enough_ , had asked Nicolò for his name.

“I may have lost the last time, but I believe I struck you down more times than you killed me,” Yusuf replies, unsheathing his own scimitar.

Nicolò’s gaze drops to Yusuf’s sure grip on the handle and tries very hard not to imagine it on his cock. He fails, and when he looks back up at Yusuf there’s a dark flash in his eyes that makes Nicolò swallow.

He clears his throat and settles back into the present. “Only because you cheated,” he accuses, beginning to circle around Yusuf like a predator, “and I’m not sure it counts if I’ve already been struck by an arrow when you come to finish the job.”

“Perhaps, but there’s no one else around now. And I’ll still have you at my mercy,” Yusuf teases.

Nicolò feels a tremor run up his spine at the words. He squares his shoulders and holds eye contact with Yusuf, and something in those warm eyes brightens at whatever Yusuf sees there. Nicolò can barely hear anything over the roaring in his veins.

He swings at Yusuf, broadsword meeting the curved end of Yusuf’s scimitar in a shattering clash. They stand like that, swords crossed. Yusuf grins, moves his blade over Nicky’s in a teasing back and forth motion, before tapping Nicolo’s side and then they’re off.

Nicolò can’t remember the last time he felt this alive; adrenaline pumping, the scent of _alpha_ , joyous and loud in the air. Blade meets blade again hard enough that it makes Nicolò jerk, dropping his sword. Yusuf takes it in stride, dropping his scimitar and lowering his centre of gravity. He beckons Nicolò teasingly with one hand, and Nicolò takes the bait.

They’re pretty evenly matched at this point, can read each other’s movements as easily as they know their own bodies, so any defeat comes mostly from luck or circumstance. This particular instance ends with Yusuf pinned underneath Nicolò, so close that their breaths intermingle.

Nicolò is struck, not for the first time, with how beautiful Yusuf is, but what he does notice for the first time are the freckles dusted over his nose. His eyes drop unconsciously to Yusuf’s lips. He licks his own, just staring at them. Yusuf’s hands are beside his head in surrender.

Nicolò looks back up into Yusuf’s eyes, then flicks his gaze down to his jugular. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for until Yusuf tilts his head and bares his neck.

There’s no hiding from each other; both of them can _smell_ how much they want each other, only made more potent by the heat sticking to them.

Yusuf jerks his head, leaning back further and tilting his hips up, and god, Nicolò can _feel_ how hard he is. Nicolò groans, and he leans down until his nose his brushing the vein along Yusuf’s neck. He can almost hear his pulse, its rabbiting so fast. He scents Yusuf there, groaning at the smell of _happy_ and _hungry._

He lets his teeth scrape along Joe’s throat, and his inner alpha revels in the way Yusuf whines and exposes himself further. The trust is heady, makes Nicolò feel greedy and humbled all at once. He traces his lips along Yusuf’s jaw, beard brushing against his own face.

Just before he catches Yusuf’s lips with his own, Nicolò whispers, “I win.”

If Nicolò thought Yusuf’s scent was delicious, it’s nothing compared to the way he _tastes._ Nicolò claims his mouth immediately, parting Yusuf’s lips to lick into him. He groans, rolling his hips down into Yusuf’s to release some of the need between his legs.

Yusuf brings his hands up to Nicolò’s face, cupping his neck. His fingers brush along Nicolò’s neck and Nicolò kisses him harder for it, nipping his bottom lip.

Yusuf draws his legs around Nicolò’s waist, and Nicolò only has a moment to appreciate the new position before he’s being flipped over.

He lands with a thump on his back, and a lapful of alpha, eyes full of mirth. Yusuf runs a hand up Nicolò’s chest, doesn’t stop until his hand his resting gently over Nicolò’s throat, and Nicolò’s heart kicks up, nostrils flaring.

He thinks about bucking up to throw Yusuf off of him, lips already curling into a snarl, when Yusuf’s other hand goes to palm his cock, rubbing the tip with his thumb. Nicolò throws his head back on a long groan.

Yusuf uses the opportunity to lean down and scent him, fingers tightening ever so slightly as Nicolò’s chest rumbles. It turns into a pitiful whine when Yusuf’s grip on his cock loosens, instead stroking the tip of his finger over the outline through his pants.

“I told you I would have you at my mercy,” Yusuf grins, entirely too pleased with himself.

He leans down and kisses Nicolò, only slightly more measured in his control than Nicolò. It’s still a deep, consuming thing, and Nicolò can feel the happy rumbles of Yusuf’s chest when he groans into Nicolò’s mouth.

“I _want_ you,” Nicolò growls when Yusuf pulls away, gripping his sides roughly.

“You have me,” Yusuf replies, entirely too intense and honest for Nicolò to take.

Yusuf strips them of their pants, because they’re far past desperation at this point and don’t have the patience for anything more. Nicolò eyes Yusuf’s cock, dark and thick and cut, and imagines how it will feel when it’s inside of him.

Yusuf is staring down at him too, bringing a hand up to cup his cock to stroke the head and press his thumb to the bundle of nerves on the base. Nicolo whines, tries to buck up against the light pressure.

“You are beautiful, Nico,” Yusuf whispers, taking him in hand properly.

Nicolò moans, the sound immediately captured by Yusuf’s mouth on his. Yusuf is stroking him in earnest now, and every movement makes Nicolò’s hips jerk. He can smell Yusuf all around him, will probably smell like Yusuf everywhere for days now, and it’s this thought that has him on the edge in no time, knot swelling up.

“Yusuf, I-I’m gonna, _please_ ,” he mumbles, clutching at Yusuf to keep him close.

Yusuf picks up the speed of his hand, and rumbles, “Come for me, little alpha.”

Nicolò shuts his eyes, hips jerking up as his orgasm rushes over him. He cries out as he comes all over himself, over Yusuf’s hand, struck with how much better it is than he could have ever dreamt.

When he opens his eyes, Yusuf is licking his spend off his palm, and Nicolò thinks he dies all over again, right there under Yusuf. He leans forward and kisses Yusuf, tasting himself in Yusuf’s mouth. Nicolò draws him in tighter, licking into his mouth.

“Nicolò, you’re _insatiable_ ,” Yusuf groans, gripping Nicolò’s jaw in his hand.

Nicolò shoves at Yusuf’s chest until he’s on his back and then buries his face in Yusuf’s groin, inhaling deeply at the musky scent of his arousal. He wastes no time getting his mouth on Yusuf’s cock; it’s all he’s been thinking about for months.

He takes as much as he can of Yusuf, disappointed with himself when he realises he won’t be able to take his knot this time. It’s no matter, though, he supposes, since he has an eternity to practice.

Yusuf doesn’t seem to mind his lack of skill, pressing his hand against Nicolò’s nape. Nicolò shivers when he feels nails scrape along there. He wants Yusuf’s mark on him, wants Yusuf to bite him there for all to see.

All to soon, Yusuf is swelling further, grip tightening on his neck and his legs start to shake. Nicolò doubles down, tries to take Yusuf all the way in the back of his throat. He gags a little, eyes watering, but the next time he tries he swallows instead, and then he can taste Yusuf’s spend as he comes in Nicolò’s mouth.

When he pulls off, he’s immediately tugged into Yusuf’s embrace, kissed softly and reverently. Nicolò takes note of their position, half sprawled on top of each other, both spent and panting.

“Shall we call it a tie?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to hurt you,” Yusuf says miserably, fingers clenched into a tight fist in the sheets. His rut is almost in full effect; Nicolò can see him visibly shaking from trying to hold back.
> 
> they haven’t done this yet; Yusuf had gone into a rut less than a week after they first had sex, and they both agreed they weren’t ready yet. So, Yusuf spent his last rut getting very creative with dirty talk and mutual masturbation; Nicolò thinks he’ll remember Yusuf’s face when he opened himself up and fingered himself until he came forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rus, ruts and more ruts. and some angst.

“I don’t want to _hurt_ you,” Yusuf says miserably, fingers clenched into a tight fist in the sheets. His rut is almost in full effect; Nicolò can see him visibly shaking from trying to hold back.

Nicolò’s heart clenches at the forlorn expression on Yusuf’s face. It’s only been a few months since that perfect afternoon by the river, and the time following has been filled with some of the most pleasurable experiences of Nicolò’s life.

But they haven’t done this yet; Yusuf had gone into a rut less than a week after they first had sex, and they both agreed they weren’t ready yet. So, Yusuf spent his last rut getting very creative with dirty talk and mutual masturbation; Nicolò thinks he’ll remember Yusuf’s face when he opened himself up and fingered himself until he came _forever_.

They’d talked about this, though; decided it would be best to do this first with Yusuf’s rut (because, as Yusuf put it, Nicolò was still _feral, little alpha_ ), purchased and stored an obscene amount of oil, and most importantly began training Nicolò to take Yusuf’s knot.

That had been Nicolò’s favourite part. The first time, it took almost an hour to get him relaxed enough, and Yusuf had to stop several times so his knot didn’t pop early. The second it tugged on his rim, Nicolò gasped and came hard all over himself.

But the closer Yusuf got to his rut, the more anxious he seemed. They’d been successful so far; on the first day of his rut, they made sure Nicolò’s scent was already all over Yusuf, and Yusuf’s was all over Nicolò. Yusuf has already knotted Nicolò’s mouth twice by this point.

Nicolo spent an hour preparing himself, fucking himself on Yusuf’s fingers, so he’s open and slick, ready for Yusuf to _take him._ At least they had the forethought to find a room this time.

“You won’t hurt me,” Nicolò says, and when Yusuf scoffs, he repeats, “You _won’t_. I’m not fragile; I want this, Yusuf.”

He kisses Yusuf, rolling his hips against Yusuf’s erection. Yusuf groans, hands coming to grip his ass, kneading the flesh there. But Nicolò can tell his lover is still hesitant, can feel it in every line of tension in his body, still gripping the sheets so hard they’re in danger of ripping. Nicolò decides it’s time for a change of tact.

He emits a low rumble, a challenging hum, and shoves Yusuf’s chest down so he’s lying on the bed. Nicolò grips his hair, pulling Yusuf’s head to the side so he can bury his face in Yusuf’s neck, trying to force Yusuf to submit.

It has exactly the intended effect; Yusuf snarls, snaps at Nicolò so he moves his head away from his neck, then wrestles Nicolò off of him. Nicolò lets himself be flipped over, pushed onto his front. Lets Yusuf tug his own hair, baring his neck for Yusuf to bite down next to his shoulder, hard.

Nicolò _melts_ into the mattress, all the fight leaving him, submitting easily to Yusuf’s dominance. He can’t help but grin happily when Yusuf makes a happy noise, releasing his shoulder.

“That’s it, alpha. I can take it, I can take you,” Nicolò groans, still baring his neck openly. He’s so hard that he’s dizzy with it, and he shudders as Yusuf runs a finger over the bite.

Yusuf growls low in his throat, and Nicolò feels it all along his body. He licks the mark that’s quickly fading and then he pulls Nicolò’s hips up, arranging him so he’s _presenting,_ and doesn’t that just send a dirty thrill down Nicolò’s spine at the taboo of it all.

Nicolò moans, long and loud, as he’s filled up by Yusuf’s cock; they’ve been practicing this for days, preparing Nicolò to take Yusuf’s knot, but the overwhelming feeling has yet to subside. He chokes on a groan when Yusuf is all the way in, and clenches around him just to make Yusuf shove in harder.

Yusuf wastes no time, pulling almost all the way out, groaning when Nicolò instinctively tightens, before fucking back in. When they’ve done this before, Yusuf likes to take his time, to fuck Nicolò slow and deep until he’s purring and preening before picking up the pace and finishing them both off. Yusuf’s immediate brutal pace leaves Nicolò breathless, clawing at the sheets to try and hold onto something.

Yusuf’s thrusts are rough and wild and so, so good. Each time he thrusts in, Nicolò’s whole body is pushed forward with the force of it. Yusuf grips his hips to keep him firmly on his cock, rolls his hips in a filthy motion that has Nicolò crying out. He scrambles to fist his cock to keep himself from coming too quickly; he needs to last, wants to make it good for Yusuf, so he doesn’t have to worry about overstimulating Nicolò.

All the while, Yusuf is murmuring praise in a low, husky voice, talking about how _good_ he is, how _beautiful_ , how _wonderful_ he is and Nicolò drinks it up, practically drunk on it, pushes back into every thrust like he needs it more than air.

When Yusuf’s knot starts swelling, catching on Nicolò’s rim every time he pulls out, Nicolò takes a shuddering breath in, deep and controlled, to keep his muscles from constricting on instinct and hurting both of them. He’s not an omega; his body wasn’t built to take a knot, but damn if he isn’t going to give Yusuf this, to give himself this. His body knows _Yusuf,_ has been taken apart and put back together under him in more ways than one, and that’s all that matters.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, habibi,” Yusuf groans.

He moves one hand to grip Nicolò’s shoulder, holding him down on Yusuf’s cock. He’s making little jerks of his hips to work his knot gently but firmly into Nicolò.

“Come on, alpha, _knot me_ ,” Nicolò pants, fucking his cock into his hand. He’s so close he can practically taste it like blood behind his teeth.

He grunts as Yusuf shoves in once more, and then his knot has breached Nicolò’s hole and he’s blissfully, completely full. It swells up and locks inside him as Yusuf’s come pumps warm into his hole, and Nicolò comes so hard he knots his own palm in the ecstatic pleasure.

He’s so full, and he fucking loves it, can hear himself purring happily at being tied to his alpha. When Yusuf collapses against him, he feels Yusuf’s answering happy rumble against his back.

Yusuf rolls them onto their sides to get comfortable and playfully nips the back of his neck. Nicolò shivers, clenching around him again in retaliation, which only makes Yusuf groan and give another roll of his hips into Nicolò. it’s a dangerous feedback loop of pleasure, which ends with Yusuf’s teeth sunk deep in Nicolò’s shoulder, making little jerks of his hips into Nicolò to make them both come again.

-

Two days later, Nicolò wakes up still tied to Yusuf, and hisses when Yusuf begins stirring, cock swelling and immediately seeking more of the tight warmth he’s encased in.

They’ve had to take a few breaks so far; for more lube, and for food of course. Nicolò’s ass is sore from use and friction, and he’s never been more grateful for their healing abilities because he doesn’t think he’d be able to sit down for a week if they didn’t have them.

Yusuf catches his wince of pain and immediately retreats, causing Nicolò to panic. _Shit._ Did he mess up? The errant thought that he can’t satisfy Yusuf, that he’ll _never_ be able to satisfy him like an omega, makes his heart clench and stomach twist.

“No, no it’s fine, I’m sorry, please-”

He tries to reach back and grab at Yusuf’s cock, trying to guide it into his hole. Yusuf jerks away, and when Nicolò tries again Yusuf grabs at Nicolò’s wrists and holds them against his chest, effectively trapping Nicolò against Yusuf’s body, waiting until Nicolò stops struggling.

“I _won’t_ hurt you,” Yusuf reminds him, dark and dangerous.

Nicolò nods, bites his lip to keep himself from apologising again. Yusuf lets go of his wrists and rolls Nicolò onto his back. He shuffles down his body, and Nicolò spreads his legs easily to accommodate his body between them.

Yusuf looks down between his legs, runs his thumb over Nicolò’s puffy, abused hole. He makes a small sympathetic noise, and then his head drops down. The next thing Nicolò feels is Yusuf’s tongue, warm and soft, lapping at his hole.

“Oh,” Nicolò sighs, and then: “ _Oh_ ,” as Yusuf’s licks get more insistent.

Yusuf’s tongue soothes the raw skin while it heals, and soon enough Nicolò is begging, shifting his hips into Yusuf’s mouth because it feels _fucking good_ , better than it has any right to.

Finally, Yusuf pulls away and pours a truly unnecessary amount of oil over Nicolò’s hole, pushes his fingers in and starts stretching him open. He must still be feeling his rut, must feel how desperate Nicolò is, because he quickly works Nicolò up to three fingers and then he’s pressing his cock into Nicolò. He doesn’t stop until he’s all the way inside, until Nicolò is arching his back and scrambling to grab Yusuf’s shoulders.

“Better?” Yusuf grins teasingly, shifting his hips to get the right angle.

 _Perfect_ , is what Nicolò thinks, staring into Yusuf’s eyes, but all that comes out is a moan. He sees the amused glint in Yusuf’s eyes and decides to pay him back for it later.

* * *

It takes years before their ruts sync up and they can mate. It’s difficult, not having the easiness of a traditional pairing. Nicolò watches sadly as the bites he leaves on Yusuf heal all too quickly. He pretends it doesn’t bother him, but he knows Yusuf sees him staring enviously at other mated couples and their marks. Why can’t they have that?

It doesn’t matter how much they drench themselves in each other’s scents, how many times they knot each other – Yusuf’s rut still comes about two weeks after Nicolò’s. Every time he feels his rut approaching and Yusuf just shakes his head sadly, Nicolò thinks he dies a little more inside.

It must be bothering him more than he realises, because he spends three days snapping at Yusuf before the man pulls him into an inn and shoves him into a room.

“You’re in rut, Nicolò,” Yusuf says, and he looks upset. Like maybe he thinks Nicolò was keeping it from him.

Which is _ridiculous,_ and he says as such to Yusuf, who looks at him like he’s very, very stupid. 

“My rut shouldn’t be due for another week, at the very earliest,” Nicolo continues, brows furrowed in confusion.

Yusuf tilts his head sympathetically, which is arguably _worse_ than before. “You’re stressed and anxious, little alpha. You’ve probably triggered an early rut.”

 _Early,_ Nicolò thinks, stunned. That can’t be right. The last thing he needs is for his rut to be even further away from Yusuf’s.

“I’m not in rut, Yusuf,” he doubles down, shaking his head to himself. His body will _not_ betray him this way.

“It’s okay, Nicolò. I’ll get-”

“You’ll get _nothing_ , because nothing is happening. I’m fine,” he snaps.

Yusuf huffs, eyes narrowing dangerously before he closes them and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Fine, Nico. Let’s just stay here tonight, since we’ve already got the room, and we’ll move on in the morning,” he surrenders.

Nicolò reluctantly agrees, and soon wishes he hadn’t. He wakes up in the middle of the night with his knot already popped, his fangs aching in his jaw. His breaths come in unsteady as he realises what’s happened and he’s already shaking with exertion.

“Fuck, fuck,” he bites out, pressing his palms to his eyes, feeling the burn of frustrated tears already welling up.

He manages to hold it together while Yusuf works himself on his cock, until he’s seated in Nicolò’s lap because Nicolò can’t move for the way his joints have stiffened up from neglect. 

Yusuf allows gravity to help the way onto his knot, swivelling his hips to seat himself down on the sensitive nub. It only takes one clench of Yusuf’s muscles for Nicolò to come, but he’s still upset and dissatisfied, and before he knows it he’s crying, hot tears welling up around his eyes.

He can’t stop apologising, over and over and over until Yusuf shushes him gently. He takes one of Nicolò’s hands and brings it up to his neck so Nicolò can feel his pulse. Nicolò shudders, thumb tracing a vein down Yusuf’s throat.

“It doesn’t matter if we don’t get to mate,” Yusuf whispers softly, and Nicolò has to suppress another wave of tears, “Nico, look at me. It doesn’t matter. I bear your mark on my soul. We are bound together by something stronger than death.”

-

Nicolò cannot describe the insurmountable relief he feels when he wakes up one morning in Malta feeling the beginnings of his rut, and Yusuf returns from the market with a stronger scent than usual, eyes dark and purposeful as he seeks Nicolò out from across the room. 

They lock eyes, and they intuitively just _know_. They’re drawn together in an instant, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Nicolò kisses Yusuf fiercely, laughing at the taste of joy in each other’s mouths. When he pulls away, Yusuf’s eyes are shining with unshed tears.

They spend the next few delicious hours opening each other up, thoroughly preparing each other wringing orgasm after delicious orgasm out of each other. Yusuf’s rut only intensifies Nicolò’s own. His lungs burn, he’s already sweating, excitement thrumming like a livewire underneath his skin.

It starts like this: Nicolò tackles Yusuf against door of their bedroom and holds him against it, nudges his nose alone Yusuf’s beard. He snaps at Nicolò and Nicolò retaliates by holding his Adam’s apple between his teeth, just this side of too sharp, and waits for Yusuf to submit.

When he does, baring his neck so beautifully, Nicolò growls happily and shoves himself between Yusuf’s legs. He grips Yusuf’s strong thighs and hoists him up, clumsily pokes around in his desperation before his cockhead catches on Yusuf’s rim and then he fucks inside in one brutally perfect thrust.

Yusuf throws his head back against the door and Nicolò cannot resist sucking purple marks along Yusuf’s exposed skin, rutting into him frantically. Yusuf’s hands curl into Nicolò’s hair and tug at the strands, which makes Nicolò feral, rumble forming in his chest while he adjusts his grip to Yusuf’s thighs, spreading him further so he shove in harder. The door protests, creaking and thumping with every push inside, but Nicolò doesn’t care, and Yusuf doesn’t seem to mind, if his own rapidly forming knot is any indication.

Sometimes it begins with Yusuf on top, cock buried in Nicolò while they lay on the bed, and just when he’s about to knot Nicolò, he pushes Yusuf off of him, watches as Yusuf’s eyes go dark and desperate, shaking with how close he was, before Nicolò flips the other alpha over and knots him then and there.

It ends like this: with Yusuf and Nicolò wrapped up in each other, spent and sated, coated and sticky with oil and each other’s come. Dripping in each other’s scent, mingled in a way it hasn’t done before, a special blend of _YusufandNicolò_. Twin bites stand out along both of their necks, just above the collarbone. Nicolò barely sleeps that night, just traces the marks along his own neck while he stares at Yusuf. Basks in that feeling of _Belonging, Owned._

* * *

Nicolò dies almost six months later, after being stabbed in the kidney from behind. It’s a death borne of his own carelessness, and he feels almost embarrassed to have slipped up that badly. Shame spirals quickly into panic, however, when he wakes up feeling off in a way he can’t explain. That is, until he instinctively reaches a hand up to his neck and flinches when he can’t feel Yusuf’s mating bite singing against his skin.

Yusuf finds him like that sometime later, stunned still with grief. Nicolò takes one look at Yusuf’s equally bare neck and collapses into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

* * *

It gets easier when they meet Andromache and Quynh; another alpha pair who _understand_ what it’s like. They’ve been together for longer than Nicolò and Yusuf could even conceive. Unlike Nicolò and Yusuf, their mating bites are marked along their wrists, which Nicolò didn’t even know was possible. But, he supposes, if he were that old he’d probably have figured out a thing or two that no one else knew about.

It takes a little bit of time to figure out the dynamics; four alphas travelling together is not only intimidating but dangerous, especially when it comes to their prospective ruts. Yusuf jokes that they might need some time to adjust because Nicolò is still _feral,_ and when Andromache shoots him a wicked smile and nods at Quynh, saying that she’s also a wild thing, Nicolò has never felt so understood.

* * *

Yusuf and Nicolò challenge each other often. It becomes something of a game, riling each other up, wrestling until one ends up fucking the other. They come up with a word together, that when said stops the game immediately – _dagger_ – because Nicolò gets mouthy when he’s put in his place, and Yusuf had said he needed a way to differentiate snarling, insulting Nicolò from a Nicolò that genuinely didn’t want to get fucked within an inch of his life.

“ _Cazzo_ , go fuck yourself,” Nicolò spits as Yusuf attempts to work his cock into Nicolò while holding his arms down by his sides.

“Actually, I thought you wanted my cock in you, habibi,” Yusuf teases in return.

Nicolò’s desperation is confirmed with the way he’s practically _dripping_ from his cock with need. But he bucks his hips up violently anyway, making Yusuf slip past his hole, and he grins in triumph, feels a satisfied and exciting thrill run up his spine.

Yusuf groans in frustration, and uses his grip on Nicolò to flip him over, one palm pressed between his shoulder blades while the other spreads one cheek so he can slide inside. Nicolò bites his own fist to stop himself from shouting in pleasure.

Yusuf moves the hand not holding him down to fist in his hair. He yanks Nicolò’s head back, leaning down to bite and lick at Nicolò’s neck.

“Don’t hide from me; you _like_ this, little alpha, you like being held down, with no option other than to take my knot.”

Nicolò comes immediately in response, orgasm punched out of him in a desperate cry.

-

Once, on the tail end of Nicolò’s rut, when Nicolò was still on edge but no longer hostile, Yusuf laid Nicolò out on the bed and held him down, teasing his nipples and flicking his cockhead until Nicolò was hoarse from crying out.

He had to shove his body between Nicolò’s legs to open him up. He pushed one oil coated finger into Nicolò after another, while his other hand gripped one of Nicolo's thighs to hold him open. He stopped every time Nicolò snarled or snapped at him, only resuming once he calmed down again. Nicolò was practically vibrating with the urge to push Yusuf off, fighting his rut instincts to allow Yusuf to do what he wanted.

It took over an hour for Yusuf to open him up properly, to get Nicolò to spread his legs, bare his neck and _beg_ Joe to take him. It’d been exhilarating when Yusuf pushed into Nicolò, dominated so thoroughly during his rut.

Yusuf had fucked him so slowly, had slipped a hand around Nicolò’s neck and held him down until they both came. They were both shaking and exhausted by the end of it, and Nicolò had tears spilling out of his eyes, frustrated because his knot had swelled, and he hadn’t had anything to satisfy it.

Yusuf made up for it by licking his own come out of Nicolò’s hole, and then scooping some on his fingers, rubbing it into Nicolò’s neck, degrading and unmistakably claiming. It sent Nicolò _wild_ , and he fucked Yusuf three times that night, bent over and begging.

* * *

Nicolò is tied to the bedframe using a truly impressive knot formation that he can’t get out of, with Yusuf above on, sitting on his cock.

Nicolò’s rut has been in full swing for a day now, and when Yusuf had initially suggested this, he’d been hesitant. But he can’t deny its appeal, now that he’s at Yusuf’s mercy. The dizzying dichotomy of wanting to claim Yusuf but being unable to is thrilling and moreover, it’s fun. He didn’t know sex could be fun until Yusuf.

“Yusuf, alpha, _please_ -”

Yusuf laughs, traces the sweat gathering along Nicolò’s chest. Nicolò breathes in the scent of desperation clinging to them both. Nicolò groans when Yusuf shifts again, but it’s light, full of laughter.

It doesn’t take long before need overcomes him again, and he strains against his ties, trying to touch Yusuf, to bite him and fuck him properly.

“I can smell how much you want me, little alpha,” Yusuf teases, a hand running down Nicolò’s warm body, making Nicolò shiver, “what would you do if I untied you right now?”

Nicolò bares his teeth in a way that’s more of a warning than a grin.

“I'd hold you down and fuck you until you’re dripping with my scent, my come.”

Yusuf groans, hips stuttering as he leans over and lets Nicolò out of the restraints. Nicolò wastes no time rolling them forward, switching their positions so Yusuf is on his back as he thrusts into Yusuf hard and fast.

Yusuf is making little choked of noises, can barely get a breath of reprieve the way Nicolò is going, and Nicolò’s inner alpha practically glows in satisfaction at the way Yusuf spreads his legs further to take him in deeper.

Nicolò _loves_ having Yusuf under him, taking him hard and fast, holding him down firmly. Loves it even more when Yusuf makes it a challenge for him. It’s not long before his knot is rising up again, and he shoves in hard when it catches, sinks his teeth into Yusuf’s shoulder. He punches a choked groan from Yusuf as he spills inside.

When Yusuf goes to touch himself, Nicolò grabs his wrists and pins them above his head, grinning wickedly when Yusuf whimpers.

“I’m not done with you yet, my love.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether it’s well-meaning alphas asking Nicolo if he’s being taken advantage of, or omegas asking Joseph why he would settle when he could have any omega he wanted, or simply the swathes of small-minded people who don’t believe two alphas could love and care for each other as deeply as they do, they have endured many forms of ignorance throughout their long lives.

Meeting Sebastien is… interesting.

The frenchman is undeniably _alpha_ , and unfortunately one that is also unmistakably a product of his time. A fact that’s only proven further when he finds out about Nicholas and Joseph’s relationship. He bristles a little, looking them up and down, like he’s sizing them up, before coughing uncomfortably. 

It sets Nicholas on edge, his canines snapping together in a clenched jaw. But he lets it go. It’s not the first time they’ve been held in distaste for their preferences. Whether it’s well-meaning alphas asking Nicolo if _he’s being taken advantage of_ , or omegas asking Joseph why _he would settle when he could have any omega he wanted_ , or simply the swathes of small-minded people who don’t believe two alphas could love and care for each other as deeply as they do, they have endured many forms of ignorance throughout their long lives.

“So who takes the knot?” Sebastien asks cheerfully over dinner that night, blissfully unaware of the danger he’s suddenly in. 

Nicholas and Yusuf tense up, both at the question and the underlying implication. Andrea is already lifting her butter knife to stab him. Joseph quickly leans over and yanks it out of her grasp, ignoring her annoyed huff.

Very patiently, while barely gritting his teeth, Nicholas replies, “it’s not really your business, Sebastien, but if you must know, we don’t have a preference.”

He shares a quick glance at Yusuf, who actually _winks_ at him. Nicholas’s lips twitch, but his gaze remains carefully neutral when he looks back to Sebastien, waiting for his response.

When Sebastien scoffs, Nicholas has to give a warning kick to Joseph’s leg to stop _him_ from stabbing Sebastien with the butter knife.

“Well, it’s clearly Nicholas,” Sebastien announces, with all the confidence of a man who is afforded exactly _none_ if you ask Nico, “I’ve seen the way you two sleep. Plus Joseph is bigger, right?”

When Sebastien ends up on the floor embarrassingly quick, Nicholas’s teeth ready to rip out his jugular, Sebastien is forced to rethink his assumptions.

Nicholas pulls back slightly when Sebastien bares his neck, the smartest thing he’s done all evening.

“Make no mistake; just because I can kick your ass doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a cock up my ass. What I like in bed doesn’t make me more or less of an alpha,” he whispers, quiet but firm, in Sebastien’s ear.

Sebastien swallows and nods, and Nicolò goes to stand up. He catches Joseph’s gaze, which is equal parts proud and aroused.

Nicholas offers Sebastien a hand, and when he takes it, Nicolò nods once at him, a cautious understanding passing between them.

(When they retreat to their room, Joseph practically throws himself at Nicholas as soon as they close the door. He pulls Nicholas very insistently down into the bed and spreads his legs eagerly.

“You were magnificent, beloved. You truly are a vision when you fight,” he babbles dreamily while Nicholas fucks him, long and slow.)

Sebastien doesn’t make the mistake of disrespecting either of them again; it’s not long before he becomes an integral piece of their little family.

* * *

Joseph is above him, beautiful and desperate, pressing Nico into the mattress. He’s put Nico into a perfect imitation of submission; hips pulled up, legs spread, back curved, face down. It’s pushing Joseph’s cock right where he needs it, causing Nicholas to clench his fists in the sheets by his head with how much he loves it.

Yusuf really is something else in his ruts, untamed and uninhibited in a way that he doesn’t usually indulge in outside of them. This is his favourite position, with Nicholas practically _presenting_ for him, like an omega in heat.

An idea strikes him then, and before he can second guess himself, Nicholas turns his head to look back at Yusuf.

He smirks playfully, asks, “are you gonna _breed_ me, alpha?”

The reaction is immediate and obvious: Joseph moans and grips Nicholas’s hips harder, jerking his hips unsteadily into Nicholas’s, like he’s suddenly very, very close.

“Yeah?” Nicolo pants, possibly too smug, given his current position.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Joseph moans back, closing his eyes and tilting his head back while he picks up the pace.

Nicholas groans, pushes back onto Joseph’s thrusts, “can you feel how wet I am for you?” he says breathlessly, “practically dripping with it, alpha. Just want you to fill me up until I catch.”

Joseph growls loudly at that, hand coming down to grip Nicholas’s nape in a possessive gesture. He snaps his hips in again, again and again, until Nicholas is reduced to little punched out moans every time he shoves all the way in.

He spends the rest of Joseph’s rut encouraging him to _hold him down and pump him full of pups_. With every filthy word out of Nicholas’s mouth, Joseph becomes more and more desperate, until Nicholas is aching in the very best way from holding himself in the same position, thighs shaking in exertion. He idly toys with the idea of buying one of those plugs he’d seen in London, to keep him full of Joseph’s come, and then Joseph bites the meat of his shoulder and he forgets about everything else. 

After his rut subsides, Joseph is adorably embarrassed about it. Nicholas enjoys teasing him relentlessly just _a little_ too much. He doesn’t really think anything of it afterwards, until one night a few days later, Joseph brings it up as they’re sliding into bed. 

“You know I don’t really want that, right?”

Nicholas hums, “want what, my love?” nose pressing into Yusuf’s chest. He’s blissfully drowsy, content in his lover’s arms, just breathing in his scent.

“To uh- to breed you,” Joseph stutters, and Nicholas can feel the warmth of his flush down to his chest, “I just wanted you to know that it’s not something that I- I don’t miss it, or anything-”

Nicholas’s heart constricts and softens all at once. He pulls away far enough so he can see Joseph’s face. He brings a hand, palm up, to his mate. Joseph takes it gratefully, playing with Nicolò’s fingers.

Nicholas waits for Joseph to gather his thoughts. He doesn’t often get lost in words, is usually the more eloquent of the two, so this is a rare moment for Nicholas, watching Yusuf try to figure out what he wants to say.

Finally, he says, “I like you just the way you are, Nico,” and Nicholas smiles gently, because he understands.

He turns their joined hands over and brushes his thumb along Yusuf’s wrist, feeling his errant pulse jumping along his skin.

“You too, _tesoro_.”

* * *

Nicky bristles when the omega brushes Joe's shoulder. She’s done it several times that night, leaving the scent of _pre-heat omega_ on Joe, likely in the hopes he could be persuaded into a joining, or maybe that it might trigger Yusuf’s rut. Either way, it has Nicolò clenching his jaw in the hopes to stop himself from snapping at her.

It’s the turn of the century, and Joe and Nicky had been all too eager to say goodbye to it. He hopes the 21st century has better things in store for them. They’re fresh off a mission though, and although Nicky and Joe are drenched in each other’s scents, the woman circling Yusuf like a vulture seems not to notice or care.

Andy notices, tugging Booker away as soon as Joe and Nicky get back to the place they’ve been staying. She mutters something that sounds like _incorrigible_ , and then raises her voice to warn them not to break anything because they don’t need the added suspicion.

They’ve barely closed to door to their room before Nicky is on him, pressing Joe against it and kissing him deeply until they’re both struggling to breathe. Nicky feels _feral_ , his inner alpha pounding with the need to claim, to mark, to rid Joe of the lingering scent of someone who’s _not Nicky._

He all but rips Joe’s shirt off of him, plasters himself along Joe’s body and licks at his neck, sucks a bruise into the places she’d touched.

“Mine,” Nicky rumbles, and he hears Joe’s answering growl in his chest.

“What’s brought this on, habibi?” Yusuf chuckles, like he doesn’t _know._

“She touched you,” Nicky says, and he hates that it sounds like a whine, “she wanted you, Yusuf, and I couldn’t-” he swallows around a lump in his throat.

Joe understands, because he always understands. He carefully, deliberately leans further back into the door, revealing the vulnerable area of his jugular, his body one long line of submission.

“But she can’t have me, can she, little alpha?” Joe asks.

Nicky growls, and shoves a knee in between Joe’s legs, allowing Joe to press his rapidly growing erection up against his leg.

“Oh, you’re wild tonight, Nicolò,” Joe praises, “you should have staked your claim right there, my love. Shown them all who I belong to.”

Nicky growls, “Mine,” again, sniffing at Joe’s neck possessively.

“Yours,” Joe agrees easily, breathlessly, bringing Nicky’s face up for another kiss. 

* * *

Nicky and Joe take a year off from missions too, when Andy decides she needs to stop for a while, to _have a break_.

A whole year of not dying, of sporting the same mating bite, of enjoying the feeling of their bond growing stronger and stronger each day. It’s something they’ve been able to indulge in all too rarely throughout their lives together; between their ruts seldom aligning and having war after war to throw themselves into, it’s been close to a century since they had anything close to this amount of time with an uninterrupted bond.

Nicky gets dangerously used to feeling Joe at the edges of his awareness at all times; he knows it can’t last, but he’s unable to stop himself from getting addicted to it. He can’t help but feel a little sad when Andy calls them back, though it’s quickly replaced with joy at having his sister and little brother back with them.

They die on the kill room floor and Nicky is so angry he can barely stand it. It only worsens when it becomes clear that they were _tricked._ He has to breathe through it; they did it for the right reasons. Even if it _feels_ like they died for nothing, he wouldn’t hesitate to go blind into another situation if it meant they could do some good.

Andy looks over at them woefully when they settle on the train, because she _knows,_ she gets it. Nicky has seen the way she still distractedly traces the phantom bite along her own wrist. After Joe falls asleep beside him, Nicky reaches out a hand across the carriage to a grateful Andy, squeezes it in reassurance. They don’t blame her, could never be angry at her for this.

But when the guard in the van snarks _what is he, your boyfriend_? it cuts Nicky deeper than he expected it to. Not only because they’re facing another idiot who thinks an alpha pairing is laughable, but also because these strangers _can’t tell_.

He can’t tell that they’re mates (because they are _always_ mates, whether or not they have the marks), can’t tell that they’re together. Their scents are on each other, sure, but they’d been thrown together into the van, and it’s all indistinguishable in the small space. There’s no evidence that he’s Joe’s, or that Joe is his. Nicky can’t help but sigh, suddenly feeling the weight of all of his years.

Joe’s beautiful words make him feel better - as does ripping the man’s throat out a few seconds later.

-

Kozak is less interested in their secondary sex characteristics and more interested in the fact that they’re an alpha pair. She’s notified of this fact (because they are a fact; the sun rises each morning, the climate is rapidly changing, and _Joe and Nicky are together)_ by Keane, from the surveillance footage in the van.

 _They’re dangerous together_ , the man was muttering to her when Nicky came to, _keep them apart._

Nicky grinned ferally at him, his inner alpha pleased at the way the man stiffened and then stalked out of the room. _Good._ They should be afraid of him. Of Joe. Of _them._

It starts off relatively routine; she takes blood tests, draws out various substances. Nicky is almost dozing off, daydreaming about the last time they’d been to Malta and mated.

She pauses when she brushes Nicky’s neck, a confused silence settling in the room while she looks at the lack of mating mark there. Nicky’s jaw clicks, but he doesn’t flinch from her touch. He refuses to give her the satisfaction.

“They don’t stay when we die,” he mutters quietly, not looking at her.

In fact, he’s looking at Joe, still unconscious next to him. He’s too far away, and Nicky can barely smell him through the sterile and antiseptic scents in the laboratory.

Kozak makes a considering noise. “Have either of you ever mated with someone who doesn’t share this gift?”

That _does_ make Nicky turn to look at her.

“No,” he says carefully, suddenly very, very frightened in a way he hasn’t been in many years.

She hums and doesn’t ask any more questions, leaving the room. Nicky spends several moments trying to settle his breathing when Joe gasps awake, looking for Nicky.

-

When she returns with a syringe filled with liquid and asks Joe when his last rut was, Nicky loses his composure.

“ _Get your fucking hands off him_ ,” Nicky spits as Kozak tugs on the restraints to straighten Joe’s arm, heartbeat spiking. From the corner of his eye, he sees Keane smirk near he door.

She pushes the needle into Joe’s arm, Joe grunting as she pushes on the syringe until its empty.

“This will induce your rut, and _these_ ,” she explains pragmatically, pointing to the vents above them, “will shortly begin introducing heat pheromones into the room, to see if you will respond to an omega’s scent. It would be easier if your…preferences weren’t skewed, but I’m very interested to see if a traditional bond will take.”

Nicky can already see the beginnings of Joe’s rut, forming faster and more intensely than his natural ruts. All of Nicky’s protective instincts go into overdrive; he struggles uselessly against the restraints, snarling at Kozak.

“I will rip you from limb to limb-” he starts, but a choked off sound from Joe distracts him.

“I’ll have to sedate you again if you make this difficult,” Kozak warns Nicky.

He thinks maybe the one thing worse than watching Joe suffer would be to not be there for him at all, so he focuses his energy on his mate, doesn’t even look up when Kozak leaves the room again.

It doesn’t take long for the smell of omega to start filling the room. Joe jerks on the table, already sweating. Nicky tracks his hands as they clench into tight fists beside him.

“Joe, my love,” Nicky says, “it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. What did you tell me, once? _We are bound together by something stronger than death._ ”

His words seem to placate Joe a little, makes him close his eyes and nod. When he opens them, there’s a new determination there, and it’s not long before he’s breathing steadily. Nicky can see his erection, but there’s none of the fire there that he’s long been accustomed to during his ruts with Nicky.

Just when Nicky thinks they’ve got a handle on the situation, Kozak returns, her mouth an unhappy line. Nicky’s eyes narrow on another syringe in her hand.

 _Keep them apart,_ he suddenly remembers Keane telling her.

His nostrils flare in panic, and he uselessly pulls at the restraints on his arms. His chest emits a dangerous and low rumble as she gets closer, and he snarls when the needle finds a vein. She mutters something about turning up the controls on the pheromones and then swiftly exits.

It comes on too fast, and then the world tilts on its axis. They aren’t _Joe and Nicky_ anymore, but two alphas in rut, with an unmated omega _in heat_ in the room. Their scents don’t mingle like usual but _fight_ each other. Nicky closes his eyes and whimpers, his whole body a tense line.

“Nicolo, Nicolo, look at me. Please look at me, Nicky,” Joe pleads, but he sounds far away over the roaring in Nicky’s ears.

He tries to meet Joe’s gaze but the tension in the room spikes, and Nicky can feel his inner alpha’s hackles rising, his jaw aching. He snaps his head away, gasping, trying to calm himself down. _This isn’t them_ , he has to remind himself. _They love each other, and they’ll get through this._

Nicky has never felt more alone, more separate from Joe. it’s _so much_ worse than when their marks fade; nothing about Yusuf is familiar and worse, his body is recoiling from his scent, struggling against it.

It’s all _wrong_. He feels wrong, has never felt less at home in his own body. He tries looking at Joe again, but when Joe looks back at him like he’s nothing but a threat, he has to close his eyes. Joe’s scent is severely distressed, taking on a burnt smell, but Nicky can’t comfort him and it’s that thought that makes tears burn in his eyes.

Nicky takes enormous pleasure in cracking her skull open on the way out.

-

When it’s all over, Andy has to take them in separate cars and lock them in different rooms of the safehouse, because they tried to tear each other’s throats out as soon as Nile freed them.

Nicky can hear Joe groaning from the other room, and he presses himself up against the door, rumbles gently against the wood. He can’t smell Joe at the moment, so his head is clear, but it’s not much of a relief. All it means is he can think about the fact that his mate can’t touch him, and that it’s because of his little brother that they were put into this situation. His heart feels entirely too raw with grief. 

Nicky doesn’t touch himself; he digs through the bag that Andy had given him, finds an old shirt that he’d slept in yesterday and breathes in the faint smell of him and Joe. He hates the way his fangs ache, wanting to challenge the scent of another alpha.

He curls himself around the small piece of clothing and lets out one awful, deep sob after another. It could have been worse, he reminds himself. It could have been much worse, and it might have _been_ much worse had Nile not rescued them. He cries until the tears soak the shirt and he can’t smell Joe on it anymore, and then he cries some more until he passes out like that, up against the door.

For the first time in 900 years, he spends a rut alone, digging his nails into his thighs and shredding the skin to ignore his own need.

When it subsides enough on the second morning for them to be let out, Nicky wants nothing more than to go to Joe and feel his mate’s arms wrapped around him. But as soon as they see each other from across the hall, Nicky has to dig his nails into his palms to stop himself from trying to _challenge_ Joe or do something equally dangerous.

Joe frowns at him, like he knows something is wrong, and Nicky loves him so fiercely it hurts. He lets Joe have the first shower, because Nicky is sweaty, but he thinks if he washes himself he might touch himself, and he’s on edge enough as it is from holding back.

He’s exhausted. He doesn’t think he’s slept properly at all through this whole ordeal, since the kill room floor. He can’t sleep without Joe against his back, without his scent comforting him. He can’t do anything to fix it. So he makes coffee.

Nile is in the kitchen when he stumbles downstairs, drinking from her own cup. He makes his way past her, careful to not brush her while he’s still on edge. He’s pouring coffee into two cups when she speaks up.

“It must be hard,” she offers kindly, “to not be able to...you know. I’m sorry you’re going through that.”

Nicky swallows and offers her an uneven smile, “regrowing an eye is hard. Not being able to comfort the love of my life is… like losing a limb altogether.”

It’s at that moment that Joe stumbles in, still damp from his shower. The tension in the room immediately spikes and he can see the way Joe’s nostrils flare. Nicky quickly bids Nile a quiet farewell, and leaves Joe’s coffee on the counter and heads upstairs for his own shower. Pretends not to notice the way Joe’s eyes follow him the whole way up.

When he gets there, Nicky notes that Joe has opened the window in the bathroom, clearly trying to dissipate his scent from the room before Nicky could come in. He feels that familiar ache in his chest that only comes from being loved so dearly but not being able to do anything about it.

Nicky is almost dizzy with need when he steps in the shower, but he doesn’t indulge, instead presses his back into the cool tile and tries to steady the uneasy feeling in his stomach. 

He doesn’t expect the door of the bathroom to open, and for Joe to come inside. His scent is muted by the hot steam from the shower. It creates a cocoon of Nicky’s own scent around him, blocking everything else out.

“It’s not your fault, Nicolò,” Joe says, and Nicky hates that his voice immediately makes tears sting in his eyes.

“She used our biology against us, Nicky. It wasn’t your fault, or mine. Our bodies _are_ made for each other, no matter what things she tried to do to us. No one else can make my body burn the way you do, Nicolò.”

Nicky knows this; could tell from the way Joe looked strapped on that table. Even in the height of his rut, Joe’s desire was nothing compared to what it’s like when Nicky is underneath him.

But every time he closes his eyes, he remembers the way Joe had looked at him when he went into his rut, remembers how it felt to see the love of his life look at him like he was a stranger.

“You need to find release, habibi. You need to let it go.”

Nicky shakes his head, “I can’t, Joe. Not without you. I can’t find pleasure in a body that doesn’t want you.”

Joe makes a low sound in his throat, and then says, “do you need my help, little alpha?”

Nicky whines, his cock hardening at the endearment. It’s so easy, it’s always been so easy for him to want Joe. He hates that Kozak took that away from them, if only for a few days. To Nicky, they felt like years, and the five feet between them now feels like they're on different continents.

“I know, baby. You want it so bad, don’t you, Nico?” Joe rumbles, and Nicky shivers at the deep cadence of his voice, rough and dark.

“Please, Joe,” he whimpers, but he doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

He gets a hand around himself, groaning at the instant relief of pressure. He uses the body wash he knows Joe uses to help slick the way, because at least he can smell like Joe in this way, if nothing else.

“I bet you just want to lick me open and have me over the counter here, don’t you Nico?” Joe asks, his own breathing heavy, like he’s been thinking about it.

Nicky nods, though Joe probably can’t see him very well through the steam and the glass, but Joe growls approvingly anyway.

“I’d let you,” Joe whispers, and Nicky swears and fists his cock faster, even though they both know it’s a lie, “I’d let you do anything to me, Nicky, I’d let you push me down and have your way with me, mark me up all over.”

Nicky chokes on a sob and comes all over his hand, using his other to massage his knot. He still feels exhausted, and Joe leaves the room because Nicky’s scent has spiked with his orgasm, but Nicky doesn’t feel like he’s about to fall apart anymore.

-

It's almost a week before they can safely scent each other.

It took until yesterday before they could be in the same room. They spent last night sleeping in the living room, Joe on the couch, Nicky on the floor, as close as they could be and still actually sleep.

Nile and Andy, bless them, help enormously, each taking one of the alphas and distracting them as much as possible. Nile takes Joe to art museums and they try to see if they can find Andromache in the old paintings and sculptures. When that fails, they try sparring.

Nicky and Andy bake (well, Nicky bakes and Andy watches, eating half the ingredients) and bake and bake, all of Andy’s favourites - _because you’re injured and frail,_ which earns him a flick of flour in his hair - until Nicky’s nose is filled with only the smells of sugar and pomegranate, so he no longer focusing on the fact that he can’t smell Joe on him.

He hugs Andy extra hard after they’re finished, overwhelmed with his love for her and her absolute understanding of him. 

When Joe and Nile return from another adventure late in the afternoon, Nicky is relieved to find that his inner alpha accepts Joe's presence immediately. He holds his breath and waits for Joe to find them in the kitchen.

When he does, Joe stops immediately in the doorway and looks at Nicky. They stare cautiously at each other for a long second, and then Nicky sees a beautiful smile slowly spread over Joe’s features.

Andy and Nile watch nervously as they take small steps toward each other, neither daring to rush this and ruin everything. Finally, after what seems like years, they’re a foot apart, eye to eye.

Nicky bares his neck first. Joe grins, ducking his head slowly, lowering his face down to scent Nicky softly. Nicky closes his eyes at the familiar, welcome sensation of Joe’s nose brushing his delicate skin, and Joe groans, pushes himself further into Nicky’s space as he inhales. Nicky grips the back of Joe’s neck and does the same to him.

They sink to their knees on the ground right there, and just hold each other.

* * *

A month later, their ruts sync up and they head off to Malta.

Joe comes back with a mating mark that’s entirely too high to be anything but deliberate, and Andy snorts when she sees it. Joe wears it proudly, despite Nicky’s initial chagrin of having indulged in his possessiveness. In truth, being able to see Joe’s mating mark so easily settles something in his soul, makes his inner alpha purr happily that Joe is so obviously _his._

Nicky’s own mark is behind his neck, between his nape and his shoulder, unmistakably positioned to show exactly _what_ was going on when it happened. Nicky catches it in the mirror occasionally and smiles, traces the bite lovingly.

_Stronger than death._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow guys, this is the longest thing I think I've ever written - for someone who exclusively deals in short snippets, this was a challenge, but I'm so glad I tried it. Thank you to for all the lovely comments, they really do make my day.
> 
> I think we'll leave it at this for now, but let me know if you want to see more of these guys; they were a joy to write, and I had a few ideas for some scenes that didn't make it into this story, so maybe I'll post them up at some point :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He’s reaching for Joe before his mind can catch up to him, hands catching on Joe’s biceps and drawing him against Nicky. Joe has sweat sticking to him, and Nicky wants to lick it off. He settles for kissing his shoulder, his jaw and then catching his lips in a smiling kiss." 
> 
> Or: the missing Malta conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This was requested by a few of you, so here is some good old fashioned healing sex.
> 
> If I make more of this verse, I'll make this into a series and put it there!

Nicky is teaching Nile Italian – well, what she calls Italian, but is actually a mostly outdated Genoese dialect, but it’ll cover the basics – at the small kitchen table of their safehouse.

Apparently, these days American secondary schooling is severely lacking in teaching languages to its students, so they’re starting from scratch. Well, actually _less_ than scratch, if you ask Nicolò, being her first language is English, which is even worse than French.

Nicky has to rub his temple to dispel the errant thought of Booker; it’s like a constant itch just underneath his skin. Not just the betrayal, but the realisation that Booker had kept his grief from them for so long. Now on the other side of the worst rut of his life, Booker’s words sink in deep; you and Nicky always had each other. How dare he throw that in their face, amidst everything that was going on?

“…look tired, Nicky. Maybe we should leave it for the day, yeah?”

Nicky almost startles at the sound of Nile’s voice, focusing on her concerned face. He shoots her a sheepish smile, folding his hands in front of him.

“My apologies, Nile. I was merely lost in thought. How about we intrude on Andy and Joe’s sparring session before she annihilates my mate?”

He pretends he doesn’t see Nile’s sympathetic glance at Nicky’s still bare neck; she’s young (in some ways, and in some ways she is far too old), and means well.

They make their way out to the patio and stop in the doorway, each taking a side of the frame to lean upon while they watch the two alphas circle each other in companionable silence.

Nicky takes a moment to appreciate Joe; he’s taken his shirt off at some point, haphazardly discarded in a heap beside them, along with his scimitar. Nicky lets his scent wash over him, breathes in deeply, and then again, and again, just to reassure himself, revelling in the way it makes him shiver and not flinch.

He clocks the moment Joe notices him, the way his whole body shifts gears, tilting on its axis toward Nicky. Nicky can’t help but smile; he loves this man so much he can barely stand it.

Unfortunately, Andy notices too, and promptly kicks her leg out, swiping Joe just behind his knees. He lands on his back and Andy already has her knife out under his jaw. Joe groans, in embarrassment more than pain, and clutches his chest. Nicky rolls his eyes fondly. _Dramatic_.

Andy yanks him back up on his feet and pats his shoulder, muttering something in his ear that’s too low for Nicky to hear. Then she’s jerking her head up, eyes on Nile.

“Come on, kid. Your turn,” she says.

Nile glances over at Nicky, who lifts his hands in surrender, raising his eyebrows as if to say what do you want me to do? Nile flips him off and shoves off the door, but she’s smiling when she shrugs her overshirt off and joins Andy.

As much as Nicky would like to stay and watch the show (Andy had told him about the plane fight, eyes twinkling with pride, and he’s sorry he missed it), when Joe hops up the stares to the patio, using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his mind promptly switches gears.

He’s reaching for Joe before his mind can catch up to him, hands catching on Joe’s biceps and drawing him against Nicky. Joe has sweat sticking to him, and Nicky wants to lick it off. He settles for kissing his shoulder, his jaw and then catching his lips in a smiling kiss.

“So this is what gets my mate going after all this time, hmm? Watching me get my ass kicked?” Joe teases when he draws back, eyes sparkling in delight.

“I’ll admit it’s not my favourite thing to watch your ass do, _mi amore_ ,” Nicky murmurs, sliding one hand along his lower back.

He won’t go further, not in front of Nile and Andy – mostly Nile, but they’re not exhibitionists by nature. Since getting over what Kozak had done to them, it’s been difficult keeping their hands off of each other. It’s been building between them, this tension, ready to snap at any moment.

With great effort, he traces his finger back up Joe’s spine, spaying his hand along Joe’s back. Joe dips his head to give Nicky a gentle kiss.

“Shower?” Joe asks when he pulls away, eyes glancing between Nicky’s eyes and his mouth.

Nicky nods, because after 900 years he still can’t deny this man anything, and lets Joe take his hand to lead him back into the house.

-

Joe drops to his knees as soon as the water gets hot.

Nicky can’t take his eyes off him, the water droplets hanging on his curls, peering up at Nicky under his lashes. He’s always been beautiful, but Nicky has a soft spot for him like this, on his knees for Nicky.

Joe strokes along his cock, which is quickly thickening under Joe’s attention. Nicky sighs, bringing his hands to stroke along Joe’s shoulder blades, along his nape. Being denied touching Joe had been miserable, and Nicky has been touch-starved since, finding every excuse to keep his mate close.

Nicky groans when Joe takes him into his mouth, using his talented tongue to swirl around the head of Nicky’s cock, fisting his hand to pump where his mouth can’t reach. When Nicky does this for Joe, it’s always a sloppy affair; he likes to choke on Joe’s cock, likes to take him so far down his throat that he can’t think or feel past Joe’s strong scent.

But Joe prefers it like this, would rather take Nicky apart gently with his tongue and his patience. He likes to make Nicky hold back, until he’s shaking with the need to bury himself in Joe’s mouth.

This time is no different; Nicky twines his fingers into Joe’s hair, tugging on the strands as Joe bobs up and down on his cock, tongue flicking into the sensitive skin on the underside of his head on every upstroke.

“You’re so good at this, _tesoro_. So beautiful with your mouth stretched around my cock,” Nicky murmurs, delighting in the blush that spreads across Joe’s cheeks at the praise.

Joe’s hand starts massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves on the base of his cock, and Nicky can’t help but jerk his hips up into Joe’s mouth. Joe takes it in stride, taking more of Nicky into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. Nicky groans, tightening his grip on Joe’s hair and then does it again when Joe moans in response.

Joe pulls off, using his spit to slick the way as he strokes Nicky’s cock, twisting it around the head. Nicky’s close now, pushing his hips into Joe’s hand, but what’s really undoing him is the look in Joe’s eyes; completely adoring, dark with desire.

“You want me to mark you up, Joe? Get my come all over that pretty face?” Nicky doesn’t know where this is coming from, but Joe closes his eyes and nods shakily all the same.

Nicky moves one hand to cup Joe’s neck to hold him still, and he takes himself in hand with the other. He jerks himself off, quick and dirty, until he’s coming, painting Joe’s face with his seed.

Some of it lands in his beard, his cheeks, on his lips. Nicky watches, entranced, as Joe opens his eyes again. He traces a finger through the mess on Joe’s lip, groaning when Joe darts his tongue out and licks it.

He brings back Joe up on his feet and devours him. He loves that he can smell himself on Joe, can taste it on his lips. Nicky feels Joe’s cock, hot and hard, bumping against his abdomen. He takes it in hand, swallows Joe’s needy whine.

Nicky drops his mouth to Joe’s shoulder as he speeds up, licks and bites his way to Joe’s neck. Joe is trembling against him, clutching at his back desperately. They’re still healing from the trauma of their last rut; Nicky can tell from the way Joe’s nails bite a little too hard into his skin, echoing his own quiet anxiety. She’d ripped them apart in ways no one had managed to do in 900 years, and they were still feeling the effects of it, even as they make their way back to each other each day.

Nicky nibbles at his jaw, then nips the vein along Joe’s neck. Joe shudders and comes, gripping him a little harder as he does so. Nicky strokes him through it, giving Joe a playful bite just to hear him gasp and jerk his hips again.

“I love you,” Joe sighs when Nicky pulls back.

“I love you too, alpha,” Nicky returns easily, capturing Joe’s lips in another kiss.

They’re getting through this.

-

When Nicky wakes up the next morning, joints stiff and feeling dazed, he immediately freezes in Joe’s arms. It’s barely been a month and yet he knows that is the unmistakable thrumming of his rut that he’s feeling underneath his skin. He tries to suppress the wave of nausea that rises up in his stomach, but suddenly his nostrils are filled with the smell of sterile air and cleaning agents from that laboratory. The adrenaline from the rut that’s coming on only fuels his panic.

Joe must scent his distress because he’s stirring, brows pinched in concern as he reaches for Nicky. His frown deepens when Nicky instinctively flinches from it. He doesn’t think he can take another rut like the last one, Joe looking at him like he’s a stranger, spiralling out of his own body-

“ _Nicolò, breathe_.”

Nicky opens his eyes and tries to focus. Joe takes his hand and holds it firmly against Joe’s chest, allowing Nicky to settle his breathing. He lets Joe pulls him into his arms and breathes in deeply.

 _They’re both here_ , safe with their family, and Kozak can’t hurt them again because Nicky killed her with his own hands. He takes a few more moments to compose himself, nose buried in Joe’s chest, puffs of hair tickling the hairs there.

He catches a familiar scent that makes him draw back, looking into Joe’s eyes, questioning and hopeful.

Joe grins, stroking a hand down Nicky’s face, “I think it’s time to book a flight to Malta, _habibi_.”

-

The plane flight is far too long, and Nicky spends the majority of it with his leg pressed up against Joe’s, his nose buried in Joe’s neck while Joe sketches by the window.

They’d had to push to keep their seats together, after the flight attendant had picked up on their rut pheromones and helpfully informed them that it might be best if they took separate flights. They’d shaken their heads and told them that they were mates, and it wasn’t a problem, but she didn’t look convinced.

After some persuading, they were allowed on the flight, as long as they signed a waiver confirming that they’d chosen to sit together against the airline’s advice, and that any damage done to themselves or the plane was their responsibility.

It was enough to set Nicky on edge; the biggest danger they presented was disturbing the other passengers if Joe let Nicky do what he wanted to do to him. But Joe had been amiable as ever, rubbing Nicky’s back to console him and charming the attendants all the way to their seats.

By the time they reach their destination, Nicky is a ball of stress and need. He has to extract himself from Joe in order to get off the plane, but his sense are hyper aware of his movements at all times, tracking him like his mate is prey, ready to give chase at any moment.

Joe doesn’t seem to be faring much better, if his stiff posture and clenched jaw are any indication. Nicky slides his hand into Joe’s across the dashboard of their rental car and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

-

When Joe closes the door to their cottage in Malta, Nicky lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Joe says, holding his hand out for Nicky, “come with?”

-

Preparing when they’re this keyed up is an exercise in restraint. To save time, they do it together, lying on their sides, lips sliding together while they open each other up, fingering each other with increasing intensity. They try not to rush, but Joe’s already canting his hips, pushing his cock against Nicky’s, and Nicky feels like he might explode from need.

“I’m ready, I’m ready, Nicky, please, I need you,” Joe whines when Nicky’s three fingers deep, stretching him out.

Nicky knows better than to protest at this point. He nods unnecessarily, pushing Joe onto his back and settling between his spread legs. He grabs one and pushes it up, keeping Joe open while he leans down to scent him. His cock twitches when Joe obliges him easily, tilting his head up, filling Nicky up with a dizzying desire.

He’s trying his best to take it slow, despite the way his skin is burning up and his jaw is aching, but as soon as his cock catches on Joe’s rim his mate rolls his hips down, already trying to take more of Nicky. Nicky growls and clenches his jaw in an attempt to control himself.

His grip on Joe’s thigh tightens as he continues to push into the other alpha, not stopping until his groin is brushing against Joe’s skin. He groans, closing his eyes as he lets the tight heat of Joe wrap around him. Joe is shaking, breathing deeply, hands scrambling along Nicky’s shoulders like he can’t get a grip.

“Shh, _tesoro_ , I’ve got you,” Nicky whispers.

He lets go of Joe’s thighs and Joe immediately wraps them around Nicky’s waist, drawing him in impossibly closer. He runs his now free hands up Joe’s chest, along his biceps to catch his wrists and hold them down against the bed.

Nicky knows that Joe likes the feeling of being held down, blanketed by Nicky in this way. It’s so terrifyingly easy to read him, Nicky thinks. The way he pushes up against Nicky’s grip just to test it and then goes slack, baring himself so beautifully for Nicky.

His rut is starting to come into full force, now that he has his mate underneath him, around his cock. He draws out of Joe, one long line of heat and pressure, and then snaps his hips up, burying himself back inside. Joe cries out, arching his back into the thrust.

He sets a deep, claiming rhythm, all the while refusing to take his eyes off of Joe. He wants Joe to feel him for days, needs to remind himself of the way they fit together like this, how they always find their way back to this, no matter what.

“Do you remember,” Nicky starts, shifting up to let go of Joe’s wrists, “the first time I did this to you?”

It’s a testament to how far gone Joe is that he just nods dumbly, gasping when Nicky’s cockhead brushes against his prostate. Nicky grins smugly, bringing his hands around Joe’s cock, tugging lightly on the head to watch Joe shiver.

“You were so beautiful, the way you opened up for me. And so surprised in your own pleasure. I didn’t even have to touch your cock,” Nicky muses breathlessly, pitching his voice to a deep rumble.

Joe’s eyes are wide, hopeless and pleading for Nicky, sending a satisfied thrill up his spine. He lets go of Joe’s cock, ignoring the other alpha’s whimper, and wraps one arm around Joe’s thigh, holding him open for Nicky to view where he’s sinking into Joe’s entrance. He brings the other to Joe’s opening, rubbing his thumb in circles in the mess of lube along the crease of Joe’s thigh. It makes him jerk his hips up, trembling hard; Nicky knows this body better than his own, can wring out pleasure after pleasure in uncountable ways.

He thrusts in a few times like that, moaning every time he brushes in deep and growling at the way Joe’s body tries to hold him inside when he pulls almost all the way out. He’s going far too slowly to be anything but a tease for both of them, but he can’t stop staring, enraptured by the way Joe’s body takes him so effortlessly, the twitch of Joe’s thighs as his thumb rubs that spot, the matching twitch of his cock when he dips it in harder, further towards his opening. Its obscene, the slide of his cock into Joe’s hole, but it’s nothing compared to the way Joe looks when Nicky flicks his gaze back up to him, the hunger and love blazing in those dark, blown irises.

On a particularly deep thrust inside, he holds himself there and presses _down_ hard, and Joe makes a choked off noise and then his hips are lifting up, cock spirting out come onto his stomach, thigh twitching hard of their own accord in Nicky’s hand. Nicky has to pinch his eyes shut, shoving hard inside Joe a few times before gaining control over himself again.

“You are magnificent,” Nicky breathes when he can think again, watching the way Joe’s eyes go fuzzy at the praise.

Nicky himself is shaking now when he starts rolling his hips again, sweat and lube making it difficult for him to get a good grip on anything. He’s so close, cock pulsating inside Joe, and he knows Joe can feel it, can feel how desperate his mate makes him.

When he feels his knot starting to swell, Nicky lets go of the last of his restraint. Leaning back over Joe, he grips the back of Joe’s neck with one hand and holds Joe’s hip with the other, keeping him in place while Nicky fucks into him, over and over and over. Joe gasps with the change of angle, reduced to those delicious sounds that only Nicky can draw out from him, that only Nicky gets to hear.

There’s no space between them now, scents lingering and mingling together until he’s unsure where they each begin and end, joined in place by Nicky’s growing knot, pushing into that perfect spot with furious need. Nothing will come between them again, because Nicky won’t let it.

Joe’s whole body is taut, sweaty and shaking, and Nicky fucking loves this, fucking loves him, will do anything to keep his mate right here, on the precipice of pleasure under Nicky’s hands, on Nicky’s cock. He’ll never have enough of this, even if they get an eternity, it won’t be enough time.

He buries his face into Joe’s neck and continues rutting into him, revelling in each moan he punches out of Joe with each brutal drive he makes into his mate’s body. There is nothing but this, the beautiful noises Joe makes, his open, wet hole clenching around Nicky desperately, the pounding pulse of his own cock, his own temple thudding in time with the ancient, instinctive need to claim and bite.

His knot swells to its full size, and on his next thrust in, Joe grips down on it, locking them in place together, and Nicky shoves into Joe’s heat as deep as he can, spilling inside with a groan. He’s still jerking inside like he needs to get deeper, primal and mindless, as he cups Joe’s jaw with one hand. He pushes Joe’s face to one side while he nuzzles into his neck, and then he sinks his teeth into the skin there.

It forces a strangled sob out of Joe, who promptly spills between them again, overcome with Nicky’s claiming of him. Nicky has just enough sense left to bring a hand down and massage his knot, relieving some of the pressure there. Joe whimpers, clenching around Nicky, who bites down just a little harder in return.

He licks around the bite when he’s done, purring contentedly as it remains there, red and raw and real and _permanent_.

**Author's Note:**

> This will update pretty regularly, and should be done pretty shortly. I just wanted to post the first finished bits to see what you guys think!


End file.
